Always Something to Hold on To
by abs2711
Summary: Suddenly, it all came crashing down on him. An awful realization. One-shot


He pulled his pillow over his face, groaning. He _did not_ want to go to work today.

Arthur was going to throw some more things, he was going to get hit in the head, and that would make his growing headache worse.

Last night, he had stayed up _way_ too late- moping about how awful his life was.

How pitiful was that? Shouldn't he be happy about all he had, instead of mourning over all he had lost? He had a caring, kind mother. Gaius. Gwen. Arthur. All of the Knights of the Round Table.

He should be _happy_, but he felt as if there was a gaping hole in his chest, the part that swelled with all of the good emotions- elation, excitement, delight, exhilaration, anticipation - and you didn't realize it was there until it had shrunk back and the emptiness made itself greater.

Oh, how that hole in his chest _ached_ with emptiness.

Loneliness, despair, powerlessness, and guilt- they all gnawed at the edges, making it bigger with each passing minute.

He wanted to fill it, but he didn't know how.

Usually he could immerse himself in the moment; ignoring and forcing it back with a smile instead brooding on the past, but last night he couldn't. He was alone, he wasn't tired, and so he had no choice but to lay there until he fell asleep.

His thoughts kept him awake. They went in a never ending circle- loneliness, despair, guilt- round and round until he couldn't take it anymore and he allowed the tears to fall silently.

He hadn't cried in so long.

Finally, he grudgingly accepted that as comfortable as his bed was, lying there all day wasn't going to help him one bit. Throughout the day, he worked hard- scrubbing Arthur's armor, floor, and clothes to perfection and then scrubbing some more until his hands were raw and he could see his reflection on every surface.

When he got back to his room late at night, he fell asleep as soon as he laid his head on the pillow. He hadn't let himself think all day. Each time he had started on that train of thought, he scrubbed harder, forcing himself to focus on the task. It had worked well enough, and if he had to do that every time his mind started wandering, then so be it.

He refused to let himself fall deeper in despair, forced himself to hang on to that one shred of light and hope that whispered promises of a better tomorrow.

(.~.)

What was wrong with Merlin?

He had been working hard, actually _doing_ his job, and with few complaints. And even those were feeble, without as much energy behind the words. He hadn't noticed until the beginning of the week, when he had found Merlin mucking the stables without him asking because he had been all over the place busying himself with preparations for his and Gwen's anniversary.

Merlin _hated_ mucking the stables. And he was doing it voluntarily!

He had tried purposefully knocking over his tray of food 'accidentally', and Merlin had just picked it up and scrubbed the floor until he could've eaten off of it, doing so without a word.

Not one a word at Arthurs' expense!

He had messed up his bed, thrown his clothes in his wardrobe all over the floor, even lit the candles that were away from the drapery once Merlin had gone and let them burn all night so that wax was all over the floor- but when he had come back after his council meetings, his chambers were polished perfectly.

Merlin was still joking and smiling that idiot smile, even if they were fewer than usual, and he was stumbling over his feet just as much as normal, but there was something that had changed.

He just couldn't figure out _what_.

Had he just done this as a spontaneous thing? Did it so Arthur would stop throwing things at him?

He stopped his queen as she walked by. "Gwen, have you noticed anything odd about Merlin of late? More odd than usual, I mean." He expected her to give him a reprimanding look for the joke at Merlin's expense, but her brow just creased in concern.

"He's been working himself to the bone. Any idea why?" he shook his head. "Have you tried talking to him?" another shake.

After she gave him a look, he cried, "What? I'm not good at that kind of thing! And what am I supposed to say? _Merlin, are you okay? You've been working hard the past few days, and usually I can barely get you to do anything._ Don't give me that look;I don't know what's wrong with him. I've been trying to figure it out all week." His words got more biting in frustration.

She put a hand on his arm. "Our anniversary is tomorrow. Just make sure he doesn't work himself to death, okay?" His heart warmed at the reminder of it, even if there was still concern gnawing at his chest and he pulled her to him in a quick kiss, glancing around afterwards to make sure no one had seen. Even though they were married, it still wasn't looked upon highly if you were too affectionate in public.

"It probably isn't anything big, anyway." Maybe he had just been working hard because he knew Arthur got tense with all of the arranging and planning, and hadn't wanted to land in the stocks.

This was Merlin they were talking about, smiling and laughing and joking Merlin, who could always make anyone smile when he tried. He was so innocent; he couldn't imagine it was anything more drastic than that.

(.~.)

She had been smiling during the whole banquet, enjoying the music and jokes and Arthur's hand holding hers under the table. Mithian sat at her right, and she had a great many stories about visiting Arthur as a child that made her put her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't burst out laughing.

She had also been keeping an eye on Merlin, making sure he was happy and trying to figure out what was happening to her friend. He was standing behind Arthur, smiling at the jokes and stories and toasts, but it never reached his eyes.

Mithian caught her glancing at him, and leaned over. "Is he alright?"

Gwen looked over at her, only a little surprised. She lowered her voice and smiled as if she was sharing an amusing secret, but her eyes were conflicted. "I don't know. He's been working himself to the bone all week, and sometimes while he's working Arthur has to call his name two or three times before he responds."

Mithian looked at him thoughtfully. Gwen wondered what was going through her head. Was she trying to figure out what was wrong? How was she expecting to do that when she barely knew him, and even his closest friends couldn't figure it out?

What kind of friend would that make her? A stranger could figure him out better than she could, and she had known him for years, they been through everything together.

But she found herself hoping Mithian could do something, because a stranger being able to help her friend was better than no one.

(.~.)

The chasm had grown into a never ending abyss, one he had found himself falling quickly down, watching in resignation as the light faded away slowly.

He longed for happiness, anything to break the desolation he felt, but for the life of him he couldn't find anything. He worked himself hard, harder than he had ever worked in Ealdor when everything was simple and the worst problem he had was not having enough food to last through the winter, but it had started to not work as well to keep his thoughts from wandering astray. The constant, steady sound of the brush ended up as a background to his steadily growing doubts.

Smiling, forcing himself to smile and make it look natural so hopefully, eventually, it would become natural again.

He couldn't explain what had caused this random breakdown. It had all just come crashing in that night, a rampage of thoughts that circled through his head. _Freya is gone, killed on accident by my destiny. We can never marry; never have a happy life together. Lancelot is gone, the only person who had truly known how he had felt. His mother was leagues away. Gaius was growing old. Arthur didn't know, and if he did he would hate him. His father was dead because of some stupid sword. Morgana had been forced by destiny to turn against Camelot. Gwen had lost her father because of him. All those people that had died because despite how powerful he was, he was helpless, and he was alone. _

Alone. That word echoed through that abyss over and over until it had seared itself into his thoughts. It was what haunted him, what he feared the most.

He didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be sad, to feel guilty. He wanted to be happy, feel that joy he used to get every time he created something beautiful with his magic.

But now when he used his magic, all he felt was loss.

Every time he used his magic to kill someone his heart lost a little bit of happiness, until he realized that no matter his reasons he had used his magic to kill. How could he prove to Arthur that magic could be used for good, when he himself had used it countless times against people?

Forcing himself out of that train of thought, he focused on something else.

The music was beautiful. He allowed himself to be filled with it, reminded of the times when he was a boy and traveling minstrels had come through his village, trading a night of music for hospitality. He had danced with all of the village girls, standing on their feet when he was young and twirling the children when he had grown.

He sighed. How he wished that he could be back home, dancing all the way through the night.

A movement caught his eye, and he straightened, smiling a small smile when he realized Gwen and Arthur were getting up to dance. After they had started spinning, a couple of nobles joined in and joyous laughter rang musically in his ears.

"Well, are you going to ask me to dance?" He jumped. Mithian had appeared next to him, a teasing smile on her face.

"Me?" Wasn't it not appropriate for a servant to be dancing with a princess?

She rolled her eyes. "Who else?" and without another word she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the edge of the twirling couples. She turned him to face her and directed his left hand to her waist, grasping his right in hers and lightly resting the other on his shoulder.

He automatically took the lead, gracefully falling into the pattern of the dance and doing his best to ignore the stares.

"Merlin, look at me. There, now I can see your eyes. Ignore them, they don't matter."

What was she trying to get at?

He smiled. "I'm not worried."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Come now, Merlin. You can come up with something better than that."

His smile widened. "They don't matter, as long as you're in my arms?"

She laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair waved behind her, long and silky. "There you go. You know you're a pretty good dancer, considering how clumsy you are."

It was his turn to laugh, and he was glad for it. He hadn't laughed in a while. "You have no idea how many people have told me that." He picked her up and spun her around with everyone else, easily lifting her above his head.

"Where did you learn to dance?"

"When I was a boy, in Ealdor, there were minstrels that stopped by every couple of months. When I was young, the older girls taught me to dance," his smile turned a little wistful. "I danced with everyone. I was an energetic kid."

"Energetic?" she looked at him curiously, her face lit from all of the candles.

"I used to come up with the weirdest games. I'm told I smiled and laughed constantly." He had made it a game to himself to see how many people he could get to smile through the day, always tried to make everyone happy.

"Not anymore?"

"Lots of things have happened since I came to Camelot," he said, trying to avoid the topic. She was getting dangerously close to the heart of his problem. He had probably talked a little too much.

"They're worried about you, you know." He looked at her, confused. "Gwen said you've been working yourself hard. You have dark circles under your eyes, and you haven't been smiling as easily."

Well, looks like they had noticed. Oops.

When he didn't reply, she went on. "They care about you a lot, even Arthur. I meant what I said, all those years ago. Arthur values your opinion above all others, even if he won't admit it. It's the same when it comes to admitting that he values you as a friend. Whatever you're going through, you have to know that you're not alone." She must've felt him tense at the word, even if he quickly composed himself after.

"I'm not saying anyone knows what you're going through. I'm not saying that you have to tell anyone. All I'm saying is that there are people who care for you, and who hurt because they know you are hurting. Even now as they dance on their anniversary, Gwen and Arthur glance at you trying to understand."

He looked over. How had he not noticed that? They were looking at him practically every ten seconds, Arthur with a kind of determined look and Gwen a little sad and pleading. How long had that been happening? Had he been too immersed in his own thoughts and desperate working that he hadn't noticed them noticing?

She smiled at him, locking eyes. "It's okay to be sad, once in awhile. It's okay to be lonely. Remember when Morgana was Hilda, and she had tricked everybody? I felt so alone, so sad. Most people thought it was because of my father, that I was fearful for his safety. But you noticed something different about her, and that gave me hope. You're never alone. There are thousands of people in the world with good in their hearts. It's only a matter of searching and smiling, talking through silence."

She was smiling at him, and they were dancing, and their eyes were locked. Hers were kind, understanding. They seemed to say, _it's okay now. You can trust me, because I'm always right_. It was silent between them and the music and laughter seemed to echo in his ears from behind. He let that flow through his head until the only thing he could hear were her eyes and the music and the dance, the only thing he felt was how nice it was to simply glide through the room.

The dance ended and she was asked by another noble, who politely smiled at Merlin even though his eyes danced with curiosity. He bowed, and left to stand behind Arthur's chair.

_Talking through silence. _What had she meant by that?

And how had she figured everything out so quickly? She had only arrived a couple of hours ago, and had gone straight to her guest chambers to get ready. Was he really that easy to read, or had she known because of his reactions to her words and her own personal experience?

She must've really planned out that conversation. She had smoothly eased him into it, smiling and truthful during the whole thing.

Her words were running over and over through his mind, stumbling over themselves. _Talking through silence_. At the end of their conversation, he had just been enjoying her company, absorbing her presence and her eyes and her smile and there was no need to talk because the eyes did the speaking for her. It seemed as if she was doing the same, enjoying the comfortableness of being in silence with a friend.

_You aren't alone._ Oh, how nice that had made him feel.

It took him a couple of moments, but he realized that the abyss in his chest had been filled with happiness. He had genuinely smiled for the first time in the past two weeks.

He hadn't felt alone. Mithian had understood, and that chasm had shrunk, even been gone completely for a few precious moments.

_You're never alone, and there are thousands of people in the world with good in their hearts. It's only a matter of searching and smiling._

He was surrounded by good people, and people who cared. His destiny was great, a giant burden, but Arthur shared it with him. Why had he felt alone, when all along Arthur had been in the same situation on the back side of the page? They were both protecting each other, working to build Albion, and they both had been through their share of suffering.

What did it matter that they didn't know about his magic? They were there for him. He had helped them get through things, and he needed to let them help him.

Mithian had cared, and she had barely known him.

He smiled, and his heart warmed at the fact that her words were true.

_There are people who care for you, and who hurt because they know you are hurting. There are thousands of people in the world with good in their hearts. You are not alone._

His friend had cared, and had known exactly what to say to start the slow process of stitching the chasm closed.

_You are not alone._


End file.
